Guns & Roses (Larry Stylinson)

Give & Take

Hello everyone! Here's another chapter update for you all, and I hope you enjoy it. Next chapter may make you all a little livid 😅

Trigger Warning: Mentions of death/killing, minor mentions of self-harm, and numbness for a moment.

I wrote half of this chapter while I was very sleepy/anxious and couldn't think or focus properly, so I am sorry if it's rather rough.

Now, without further ado, enjoy!

Chapter 35:

Eating breakfast with Harry was a calming experience that I never thought I could have. I didn't remember the last time I actually sat and ate a meal with someone while talking about random shit.

Sure, we had a very close relationship in the gang; we would watch shows together, eat meals together, and play games a lot, but we were usually always talking about a mission or what the next big move was for us. That was my only family. My dad never sat and ate a meal with my mum and I, and after my mum's death.... It's been over a decade since I had a simple meal in someone's company that I actually cared about.

I didn't say much as we ate. Instead, I listened to Harry talk, watching as his eyes lit up in excitement or his hands made grand gesticulations as he spoke. He talked about everything and nothing at all, but I loved the way he spoke.

"-and their wedding colours are going to be a mint green with pink, so I wanted to create a grand floral arrangement that would really make their day," He said, talking about a recent order that came in from a few towns over. Apparently Harry's reputation as a florist was bigger than I knew.

"So, their wedding's going to look like a cotton candy factory?" I thought aloud, seeing Harry's expression morph into one of confusion before he smiled slightly.

"They're nice colours if you do it right," He commented, ever the optimist who never wanted to speak ill of anybody.

"They're much too bright," I noted, finishing the last of my orange juice and setting my glass down.

"What colours would you want for your future wedding?" He asked, and I eyed him as he stared down at his empty plate and ran the fork over the surface of it lightly-- small taps sounding from it. A light blush ran over his cheeks after the question left his lips.

"...I don't see myself getting married," I barely got out. I was trying to tread lightly with my words. I was highly aware of the fact that my resistance to relationships and their developments was something that often shut Harry down in conversation.

His smile fell from his lips, and he gave a slight nod. He seemed to expect the answer.

Still not looking at me, he set down his fork on the empty plate and let out a small breath.

"I already know that I would love red and sage," He commented. He closed his eyes, as if imagining the perfect wedding in his head, and then he was opening them as a frown tugged at his lips. "If I were to ever get married."

"You don't think someone would want to marry you?" I pressed. It was an absolutely absurd thought if that was the case. Harry was the full package for someone who was interested in marriage and had that opportunity.

Harry never gave a response. Instead, Joan was walking over to us to collect our empty dishes from the table. She was smiling happily at the sight of the both of us together. In fact, she'd been gushing over us all morning as we sat and talked. She seemed far more into the date than we were.

A date. Calling it a date, even just in my head, made me feel nauseous. It was new territory, and it was far more deadly than a knife to the chest.